


castle of glass

by baberahamlinkin



Series: The Hannibel Files [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathing/Washing, Cigarettes, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Nudity, Reunions, Sleepy Cuddles, Tenderness, Twintega Verse, both ric and julia exist here, well one dog to be exact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baberahamlinkin/pseuds/baberahamlinkin
Summary: Sometimes you fall in love with another vigilante. Sometimes, things don't work out. Sometimes, you reunite after seven years and you see just how far you've both fallen.
Relationships: Hafizah Vaziri/Bonnibel Hanson, Rankor/Jackal, Sidestep (Fallen Hero)/Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Step/Step
Series: The Hannibel Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048066
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	castle of glass

**Author's Note:**

> For thatsushichick on tumblr, i care you and hafi suzyyyyy

Reunions aren’t your thing. You’re trying to let go of who you were, to push all those memories away, not embrace them. Ricardo doesn’t seem to understand that- he doesn’t understand that you’re not who you used to be, you’re not a hero anymore. Really, deep down, you never were. You’re bringing the unlit cigarette to your lips as you head to the door and your eye just barely catches a familiar face in the crowd. You pause, a familiar wave of nostalgia washing over you, and your brow furrows. It can’t be- it shouldn’t be.

Is it?

You turn your head and swallow hard. It looks like her… a little older, maybe. You’re older too. Her face is a little different- scarred, tired- and she doesn’t necessarily look like her… but you think it might be. Your eyes catch hers and when she sees you she startles. She elbows the bottle beside her and it clatters against the surface of the table she’s sitting at, spilling amber liquid across the table and onto the floor. You almost walk toward her-  _ almost _ \- but then you see who she’s sitting with: Julia. 

_ Oh. _

You draw your lips into a thin line and turn and for a moment she almost looks hurt. You hurry out, not too keen on being around either of the Ortegas, and once you’re outside you light your cigarette. You tell yourself to stop being stupid, to calm down, and take a drag. You lean against the brick wall of the diner and close your eyes for a moment as you take another drag and you can’t help but think of the past this time. You wonder if she’s still the same, if she’s still smug and sassy. You wonder if she still likes you. You don’t know what happened to her after Heartbreak, you don’t know if she was taken too or if she was spared. You just remember ripping the gun out of her mouth and killing that  _ thing _ but everything from that point on is hazy. 

“... Bonnibel?” You startle at the sound of your name and drop your cigarette. 

“Shit,” you huff as you quash it beneath your shoe. You’re not going to smoke it if it’s been on the ground- you’re not that low yet. At first you think it might be Julia coming to pester you, too, but when you look up you see her. Your jaw twitches slightly and you glance away. You hadn’t expected her to follow. 

“It’s Bonnie now, actually.” You say. “Less of a mouthful.” You look at her again and when you do you can’t help but picture her how you’d first seen her: young, hopped up on adrenaline, eyes wide as you pulled off her mask. Her hair is longer now, there’s dark circles under her eyes. She doesn’t say anything and you grow uncomfortable. You fiddle with the cuffs of your jacket, “Long time no see, huh Hafizah?” 

She looks at you like maybe you’re not real, like you’re a trick her mind’s playing on you, but after a few moments she begins to cry and the sight breaks your heart. You reach out to comfort her but you hesitate- does she want you to touch her? Does she want you here? Does she blame you for any of this?

“I missed you.” You offer as you finally reach out and cup her cheek. Has she missed you? Her tears collide with your skin and you wipe them away with your thumb. You’re not sure if it’s her or you that pulls the other into a hug, but soon you’re both hugging. You hold onto her like you’re not sure if she’s really there, either; like if you let go she’ll disappear. You bury your face into her neck even though she reeks like stale beer and she cries into your shoulder. You’re not sure how long you hug her, but when you reluctantly pull back you press your palm to her cheek again. She places her hand over yours and turns her head to kiss the flat of your palm. You lean forward and press your forehead against hers, willing your own tears back down- you hate crying, it makes you feel weak and you’re tired of being weak.

“I missed you too.” She tells you. Her voice is an airy whisper and you just barely catch her words but her breath tickles your face and you squeeze your eyes shut. You instinctively lean forward and the tip of your nose just barely brushes against hers. Your lips ghost against her own and you want to kiss her but you’re not sure if you can. To your surprise it’s her who actually pulls you into a kiss. At first you kiss her like if you’re too straightforward you might hurt her- you kiss her like she’s glass, like she’s breakable. You pull away to breathe for a moment before you kiss her again. This time you kiss her a little harder, a little hungrier, and you press your tongue to the seam of her lips. She lets you in and you pull her closer, gripping her by the collar of her jacket. You remember the last time you kissed her- you remember telling her everything would be okay, that everything would work itself out.

But it hadn’t. 

You break away, kiss her one more time, before you just hug her again. 

“I guess we have a lot to catch up on, huh?” You ask quietly. Your lips are still tingling from kissing her and for a moment you feel like you had before Heartbreak. You feel invincible, you feel… alive, maybe. 

“Yeah,” She agrees quietly and she’s reluctant to let you go when you step away. You take her hand in your own and give her arm a gentle tug.

“C’mon,” you smile, “I know a place.”

As it turns out, a bar is not the best place to take Hafi. You didn’t know that  _ anyone _ could do that many shots of whiskey and still drink six consecutive scotches and you’re not even sure if Hafi’s a sad drunk or a giddy drunk because she keeps flip flopping between both each time she stops to vomit on the way home. That’s why you’ve resorted to carrying her. She’s too drunk to remember her own address, so you’re taking her back to your apartment. Her arms are locked lazily around your throat, her chest pressed against your back, as you piggyback her down the cracked cement sidewalk. She’s giggling into your ear and even now you can smell the alcohol on her breath as she nuzzles into your neck. 

“- and  _ THEN _ you remember… you remember how-” She hiccups against your skin, “-how they used to send us on missions together when Ric and… and Julia were busy?” She’s drunk rambling and you’re half paying attention, half trying to read the street signs.

“Mhm.” You say and you expect her to ramble about another long-forgotten memory, but she doesn’t. 

“I loooove you,” She coos into your throat, laughing, and your cheeks flush.

“You’re drunk, Hafi.” You tell her quietly. You don’t know why she’d have feelings for you especially when you weren’t all that great to her in your youth. You weren’t cruel, not necessarily, but you were a jerk and you were snarky and mean. You finally find your apartment and you’re surprised that you’re actually able to carry Hafi up the stairs. She just keeps giggling against you, oblivious to everything. You fumble for your keys in your pocket and open the door. Chunk immediately greets you, his curled tail fanning back and forth as you open the door. “Back, Chunk,” You say, gently pushing at his chest with your free hand as you bring Hafi inside. 

“A puppy!” Hafi coos, delighted, and for a moment you think she might cry in the way drunk people do when they see something that makes them happy. Chunk’s excited about her presence but as you set Hafi on the couch you shoo him away- you don’t need your excited, overgrown lap dog crowding Hafi and getting vomited on. Chunk slinks away, obviously sad he can’t greet this new friend, and you glance at Hafi.

“Stay here,” You tell her, “I’ll be back… please don’t vomit on my couch.” You take your leave and head to the bathroom. You flip on the light and roll up your sleeve as you twist the handles on the tub faucet. You run your fingers beneath the water, trying to find the right temperature, before you fill up the tub. Then you return to her and scoop her up, “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Nooooo!” She protests, flailing blindly in your arms, and you wrinkle your nose while you try to avoid getting socked in the nose or mouth. 

“Hafizah,” You chide as you stand her up against the wall, “you’re covered in spilled beer and vomit.  _ Please _ just get in the tub.”

She laughs and pushes at your shoulder, nearly falling, and says, “Nooo, you get in,”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Look. If I get in the tub with you will you take a bath?” She slumps over a little and this time Hafi looks a little tired.

“Yeah,” She murmurs and falls against you. You sigh and pat her back before you sit her on the edge of the tub.

“If you wanted me to take my clothes off, Hafi,” You tease despite how tired you are, “you could’ve stayed sober and just asked.” You shrug out of your jacket and begin to unbutton your shirt. She knows about you, and you know about her. You remember how surprised you’d been when you’d realized she was like you, but even now you’re a little nervous. Her fingertips press against one of the bright orange symbols just above your belly button and you shy away from her touch, startled, but when you see the disappointment on her face you gently take her hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. You slowly guide her hand back to your skin because you know she’d never hurt you. She leans forward and kisses you there, soft and gentle, and you stroke her hair for a moment before you move to help her shrug off her old, fading jacket. You think it’s camo but you’re not sure- it just looks like she’s pulled it out of a dumpster and you decide you’re going to need to buy her new clothes. 

Once her jacket’s on the floor you take her hands and guide them to the buttons of your pants. She fiddles with them for a moment before she processes what you’re silently asking of her. She looks up to you for confirmation and you nod. She unbuttons your pants, her forehead pressing against your stomach as she leans into you, and you gently thread your fingers into her hair. You watch her quietly, cautiously, and remember how things used to be with her- how much you’ve missed her. It makes you wonder if she’s really even here or if your mind’s playing tricks on you. You allow your pants to pool around your ankles when she lets go. You step out of them and help her out of her shirt, ignoring the stench of alcohol. 

You gently press your fingertips against the center marking on her chest- the one that mirrors yours- and she places her hand over yours. 

“You okay?” You ask quietly and for a moment she hesitates. Are either of you okay?  _ Can _ either of you be okay? So much has happened to the both of you… neither of you are wanna-be heroes anymore, you don’t even think either of you have anything to do with the Rangers anymore either- at least you don’t. You’re not sure if she is. 

“No.” She admits quietly and you nod your agreement as you pull her back onto her feet. Hafi twines her arms around your neck to steady herself as you work on removing her pants for her. But at least your question has been answered- neither of you are okay. 

“Me either.” You tell her as you help her out of her pants. You kiss her forehead briefly before you guide her to the tub and for a moment she looks hesitant, like maybe if she steps in the water will consume her and she’ll be lost to time. You study her for a moment before you squeeze her hand, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She nods, although it doesn’t look like she trusts you altogether… not that you blame her, anyways. She doesn’t know what you’re doing, what you’re planning. You step into the tub and gently tug at her hand, gesturing for her to follow as you settle into the water. Hafi bites her lip and it almost looks like maybe she’s going to bolt, but against whatever’s going on in her head she slowly climbs in with you. She settles between your legs, her back pressing against your chest. Your arms twine around her abdomen and you take a moment to appreciate the muscles there as you press a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

“ _ Habibi. _ ” She murmurs, and you quirk an eyebrow. You’re not quite sure what it means or if it’s directed to you but you don’t want to pry. So instead you just make an inquisitive noise and Hafi just says, “thank you,  _ habibi. _ ” Ah. So it is toward you.

“Of course.” You say with a slight shrug. “I still…” Love her? That’s too dangerous, too familiar. “I still care about you.” Hafi just nods and you press a reassuring kiss to her jaw. Maybe one day you can tell her you love her again, but now doesn’t seem right. It’s too soon, too wrong. It’s better when she’s sober, when you can really tell her how you feel; how you’ve always felt. But you tell yourself that’s neither here nor there as you begin to bathe Hafi. You’re taking care of her, you don’t need to dwell on the feelings either of you may have shared in the past- except they were more than that, weren’t they? You were going to ask her to run away with you, you wanted to be with her… and then Heartbreak happened, and it tore you away from her. You must have been broadcasting or something, because Hafi peers at you from over her shoulder. The corners of her mind bump against your own and for a moment you reel away, startled, before you relax and let her conscious embrace yours. It’s so familiar and soothing and it brings back all the memories of the comfort the two of you shared years ago. 

You used to trust her with your life. The two of you had been through hell and back together, you’d faced so much together. She was the one person who knew who ( **what** ) you are, she was the one person you could trust with that because she’s just like you. Part of you wonders if you can still trust her now, if she’d still have your back. You’d certainly still have hers if she needed you. You sigh and dig yourself out of your thoughts, swallow your pride, and just rest your chin on Hafi’s shoulder. She reaches up behind her to press a hand against your cheek and you lean your face against the side of her neck. Her skin is warm, she’s always so warm; just like a human space heater. She used to keep you warm when you’d shared your bed with her. You let your hands wander despite your hesitancy and your fingertips trace the scars that tear across her skin. Has she always had so many? You don’t remember all of them, but you’ve never had the best memory. 

You wash her hair for her. You remember it being soft when you were younger; but now it’s greasy and tangled so you’re as gentle as you can be. You don’t want to accidentally pull her hair or hurt her. Hafi leans against you as your fingers massage her scalp and you’re content to just let her relax… she seems to need it. You thread your fingers through her hair when it’s all said and done and you kiss her shoulder. 

“Wait here a second, alright?” You murmur as you climb out of the tub. Hafi whines a little, her eyes widening like maybe you won’t come back when you leave. She grabs your hand and you give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m just getting towels,” you tell her and point toward the cabinet on the other side of the room. When Hafi realizes you won’t be leaving the room she lets go of your hand and you bed down to kiss her forehead in reassurance. You walk across the room and her anxiety digs into the back of your mind as you pass by the door. She’s still worried you’re going to leave her and you don’t exactly blame her. You wrap one of the towels around your waist and head back to her with the other.

“Let’s get you dried off, yeah?” You talk quietly, afraid of scaring her. “Then we’ll get you dressed and to bed.” She can borrow something of yours, it’s not the first time you’ve shared clothes with her. Hafi just nods and accepts your free hand when you offer it to her. You pull her up and she wraps her arms around your neck again when she stands for support. You turn and press a kiss to her ear, wrapping your free hand around your waist as you help her out. You help her dry her hair and you try to ignore how tired and sad she looks; you’ve never seen her like this before and it almost stings. She used to be so full of life, so proud. 

You both were. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” You offer, because you’ve already carried her home and you don’t want her to trip or fall on accident.

“Yeah,” Hafi murmurs, voice muffled by your shoulder, so you just nod and bend to hook your hands around the backs of her thighs. She keeps her face buried in your neck and her arms around your shoulder, and Hafi twines her legs around your waist. You shift her weight when you open the door and Hafi groans into your skin. Her head probably hurts and you hope she doesn’t throw up in your bed. Chunk immediately comes to your side when he sees you again, hoping that maybe this time he’ll be given attention, and you sigh.

“Don’t trip me,” you warn him as he follows close by your legs, his bullwhip of a tail wagging back and forth as he looks up at you. Luckily, he doesn’t. He does follow you into your room though, eager for any sort of affection, but he’s obedient enough not to hop up onto the bed when you set Hafi on the edge of it. You grab Hafi a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and call it good as you help her get dressed. She seems to look a little better now, maybe she feels better now that she’s all cleaned up and dressed. You grab something to wear for yourself and while you’re occupied Chunk greets Hafi with the enthusiasm of ten thousand combined dogs. He sets his head in Hafi’s lap and beams up at her, all excitement and wiggles, and you hear Hafi’s choked sob as she takes Chunk’s face in her hands. He jumps up to lick at Hafi’s face and you turn to him, stern, and narrow your eyes.

“Down, Chunk,” you tell him, and he plants his feet firmly on the ground. He’s too big to be jumping around like that and he knows it, he’s just too excitable around strangers. You pull your shirt over your head once Chunk’s settled down and pull your sweatpants on, too. You’re not keen on sleeping in a shirt, or clothes in general, but you don’t think it’s very proper of you sleep naked with your ex over.

Shit, is she your ex?

You weren’t technically together before. You’d slept together, yeah, and you’d had sex; but you weren’t… dating. She wasn’t dating  _ you _ , anyways, and remembering that makes you a little jealous. You wonder if she’s with Julia again for a moment, but you don’t want to ask. Not when she’s like this. Instead you just take a deep breath and walk back to her. 

“C’mon, bed time,” you say like you’re talking to a child. You help her under the blankets and take a step back. You probably shouldn’t share a bed with her, you don’t think she’d want that, so you’ve decided to sleep on the couch. “I, um, I’ll see you in the morning.” You tell her and turn to go, but she grabs your wrist. Your brow furrows and you peer at her, curious, and tilt your head.

“Stay.” Hafi’s voice is soft, pleading. She looks sad and scared and she tugs at your wrist. “Please, Bonnibel, stay.” 

“Bonnie.” You correct half-heartedly, but you nod and climb into bed with her. It feels too familiar, too close. You haven’t let anyone get close to you since you lost her. It’s too painful. She envelopes you once you’re beside her. Hafi’s arms wrap around your waist and she buries her head against your chest. You hold her back, your cheek against the top of her head, and sigh. You’ve almost forgotten how it feels to share a bed, or any space really, with someone.

“Bonnibel?” Hafi asks, and this time you don’t correct her.

“Hm?” Your eyes are closed. You’re comfortable. Too comfortable. You shouldn’t be able to get this cozy with someone so soon.

“Can… the dog sleep with us?” It’s such an innocent question and it makes you stifle a bout of laughter. 

“He’ll crush us.” You tell her. It’s true, Chunk’s a notorious cuddler and you’ve been kicked out of your bed many times, but Hafi pulls back to give you her best puppy-dog eyes and your resolve crumbles. Jesus Christ, all these years and she’s still got some sort of control over you. “Alright, alright, he can sleep up here too.” You pat the side of your bed and Chunk doesn’t hesitate to jump up to join you. You’re pretty sure your mattress is creaking beneath his weight, but you can feel the pleased and giddy feeling that’s radiating off of Hafi when Chunk rests his head against her legs. He’s crushing  _ yours _ in order to do it, but you guess you can let it slide for a night or so. Hafi rests her head against your chest again and you allow yourself to at least enjoy the quiet and the familiarity of the situation. Maybe you don’t deserve it anymore, but it’s still nice. 

“I like it,” you tell her, “when you’re all cleaned up.” The mood drops a little and you soon understand why when Hafi sighs.

“Because I don’t stink?” She asks, her voice cracking. 

“No.” You assure her, stroking her still wet hair back. “Because you smell like me.”

“I’m sorry.” Hafi says and it catches you off guard.

“For what?” You ask. You move your hand to rub her back, holding her close, and she holds you a little tighter.

“For being like this.” Hafi murmurs. “I’m not… me anymore.”

“Neither of us are.” You tell her, shrugging. “But you don’t have to be sorry. Stuff happens, you know?” Hafi goes quiet. Maybe she doesn’t believe you, or maybe she just doesn’t have anything else to say. You don’t, either. So instead you just hold her for the time being, wide awake and unable to fall asleep. You keep holding her when she drifts off, mind fixated on keeping her safe. It’s the least you can do for now, for all she’s done for you in the past. You hold onto her, even as your legs begin to fall asleep from Chunk’s weight; even though you’re almost certain this is a one time thing. She can do so much better than you, there’s much better things in the world than you. 


End file.
